


Chance of Flurries

by imaginarycircus



Category: Emma Approved
Genre: F/M, Loss of Virginity, Sharing a Bed, Snow Storm, This was supposed to be a drabble, all the usual suspects - Freeform, of this particular trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:57:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarycircus/pseuds/imaginarycircus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for an anon prompt: Emma and Alex share a bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance of Flurries

Alex had gotten out to see if he could push the car out of the ditch, while Emma gave it some gas. The wheels spun uselessly making that sound that everyone who's ever been stuck in ditch recognizes as defeat. Emma climbed out of the car and plunged her new suede boots into several inches of fresh snow. About three inches judging by her ruined five inch heels. She hadn't quite liked the color anyway. They'd looked more _wine_ than _dried anemic blood_ on the website.

"I thought the weather lady said 'only a chance of flurries!'" She tilted her face up into the fat white flakes falling with abandon. She'd seen snow before, but it wasn't an every day occurrence. There was still something magical about it even though they were stranded on a road halfway down a mountain. Alex was kicking snow out from alongside the front tire. He'd sort this out. He might be a bit stodgy, but he was the most capable person she knew. She'd grown to appreciate capable more and more lately. It was important to know whom you could rely on and whom you could trust.

Emma held her phone up in various directions. "I don't have a signal. Do you?" 

Alex gave up on the tire and shook his head. "We'll have to wait for someone to come by. Let's get back in the car." 

It was warm in the car, but after twenty minutes Alex insisted on shutting the engine off. She'd chosen not to return home with Annie and Ryan this morning. She'd wanted to get in a few more runs. The morning had been sunning and crisp, the trails sparkling white and powdery. Alex had readily agreed to ski more and drive later. She refused to regret her choice. She glanced at Alex who was starring at the ceiling. His jawline, so familiar, looked suddenly alien and touchable. The itch to touch him was recent, but not new. Maybe if they could hitch a ride they could head back to the resort. She'd happily curl up in front of a roaring fire with a warm drink and Alex in his ugly, snowflake sweater.

They waited. And waited. Not a single car or truck came by. They waited until Emma couldn't feel her toes anymore. She declared that if she had to play another game involving the alphabet the only thing she'd bring 'on a picnic' was arsenic. Talking about food was making her cranky. They'd eaten the mints in the bottom of her purse, but not the piece of chocolate that had partially unwrapped and looked linty. It was getting dark and the temperature was dropping. She could see her breath come out in cottony looking clouds.

Alex tugged on his wool hat. "You wait here. I'll walk up the road and see if I can find help." He unbuckled his seat belt because he was a big doof who wore his seat belt in a car stuck in a ditch.

"I'll come with you." Emma zipped up her coat and straightened the cuffs of her gloves.

Alex rubbed his eyes. "I don't think you'll get very far in those boots."

"I could change them. If someone would be kind enough to get my other boots out of the trunk."

"Would that someone be me?" Alex gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Sorry. I'm frustrated and cold. I know you are too. I'll get your boots."

He returned with them and warned her that they were cold. She still shrieked when her foot nestled into the icy foot bed. "I thought my feet were numb, but apparently not."

They had to walk at an angle against the wind, which was too loud for conversation. It was actually whistling. She'd thought that was some poetic nonsense. It seemed they'd walked far enough to reach home, but it would be warm if that were so. On they trudged. Snow flew into her eyes and mouth and once up her nose. She followed Alex blindly until he pointed at a small dark house that had loomed up in front of them. He knocked on the wooden door. Neither of them expected and answer so they were not disappointed. He tried the handle, but it was locked.

"Well." Emma gestured at the door. "What are you waiting for? Break it down!"

Alex managed to raise one snarky snow-crusted brow before he reached above the door and felt around. He triumphantly took down a key. They pushed open the door and hello-ed, but the cabin was dark and silent.

"How did you even notice this place?" Emma slammed the door closed behind them. It was lovely to be out of the wind, which had begun to drive ice and snow into her face like tiny frozen knives.

"There was a marker at the end of the drive. It was the first sign of anything that wasn't trees." They stamped their feet and shook off all the snow they could before venturing further inside.

"Are you all right?" It was dark and Alex gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. She moved to hug him, but suddenly felt shy because hugging him now meant something different to her than it used to. They stood there awkwardly like middle schoolers at their first dance. Her hand on his shoulder. His hand on her arm. 

He cleared his throat. "I guess we should look around." He used the flashlight on his phone to explore. Emma clutched his sleeve and followed closely behind him. The light switch on the wall made a nice click, but that was it. "No power," he said.

"There's a fireplace. You were in Boy Scouts. You can make a fire." Emma drew close to the dark fireplace and waited.

"Do you see any wood?"

They searched. It didn't take long because the house was one room that was a kitchen, living room, and bedroom all in one. There was a separate bathroom, but no hot water. They were happy to find that the stove was gas powered and there were matches. There was split wood stacked out back and Alex brought in several armfuls while Emma searched for kindling. It took some time, but eventually they had hot cocoa (the kind you add water to, which Emma normally would have scorned) and a blazing fire. Her toes were nearly thawed.

"Better?" Alex bumped her shoulder with his. They'd been sitting quietly.

"Yes," she said, but her stomach gave an unearthly growl. "Except for that."

"Was there anything in the kitchen besides hot cocoa?" Alex asked hopefully.

"I didn't really look." Emma closed her eyes and leaned back against the chair, which was the only stick of furniture in the place beside the lumpy little bed in the corner. She had looked through the cupboards. She wasn't sure what you could do with random condiments and cans of things. If you dropped her in a grocery store she'd make a bee line for the prepared foods.

"I'll go see what I can do."

She had faith that Alex would magic something up. He was by no means as good a cook as Annie, but he could do more than burn toast. That was Emma's specialty. She didn't like feeling so useless. Maybe when they got home she would let Annie teach her some basics.

They'd have to stay here until the storm died down. The tiny bed was a problem. Well. No. The real problem was that Emma was glad the bed was so small. She flushed imagining herself suggesting that they share it. She shifted her weight, but there was no comfortable way to sit on the wooden floor. She could say, "Alex, take me to bed." But that sounded like something from a soap opera. Maybe if they were wrapped up and close in the dark she'd be able to tell him how she felt a warm liquid rush she felt when he smiled at her or brushed his hand against hers. If she couldn't find words then perhaps she could show him. If he didn't insist on sleeping in the chair like they were in a 1940s movie.

After a revolting dinner of what Alex claimed was pickled herring, anchovies with mustard, canned peaches, and more hot cocoa with some peppermint schnapps thrown in--Emma tried to tidy up in the bathroom, which meant rinsing her mouth with stingingly cold water and a little schanpps. She ran her fingers through her hair. She'd never felt less seductive in her life. Seduction wasn't really in her repertoire. She knew how to flirt, how to flatter, and how to soothe a wounded ego. She was wearing a nice black sweater and jeans. Her underwear was plain beige. Chances were Alex didn't care what kind of underwear she was wearing. Not because he didn't care about her, but because he didn't generally care about that sort of thing.

She took a deep breath. Her stomach bobbed unpleasantly like a water balloon that lands without breaking. It was too damn cold to hide in the bathroom all night. She was Emma Woodhouse. She could get Alex Knightley into that bed and tell him she was in love with him. She marched from the bathroom to find that Alex was asleep. On the bed. On top of the covers. Wearing his jacket and hat.

"Alex." She poked his shoulder.

He grunted and rolled against the wall, muttering something about the blankets. Emma wrestled her way under the musty quilt. The sheets were so cold that they felt damp. Alex didn't snore, but she wished he would. It would make her feel better somehow. Alex curled behind her and she was seized by violent self-doubt. She'd been wrong about everyone else's feelings. She might be wrong about him too. He loved her, but maybe it wasn't the way she loved him. It wasn't a comfortable, worn in emotion. It was sharp-edged and alarming. She fell asleep watching the fire grow low.

She woke up later because the bed was shaking a little. Alex was shivering. She placed her hand on the wall behind him. It was so cold it hurt and she had to blow on her hand and shake it out. She woke him out of a shallow sleep. "We have to move the bed closer to the fire. Then you have to get under the covers with me or you're going to freeze to death."

He must have been halfway to hyopthermia because he didn't argue at all. He let Emma push him into the hard chair while she shoved the bed closer to the fire. She stripped off his coat. She tucked him into the bed on the side closest to the fire. She put more logs on it--hoping she'd done it correctly. She poked them with the poker for good luck. The new logs began to burn with cheerful little orange flames.

She scrambled under the blanket and curled on her side so that she was the little spoon. Alex's deep even breaths made hers catch in her throat every time he exhaled and stirred the hair by her ear. In his sleep he snuggled closer. His cold nose bumped her neck. His hand landed on her arm. She squirmed, but there was nowhere to go. He wasn't shivering anymore. She was doing something like it, but it wasn't from cold. She felt like she might die, ironically, of heatstroke. Her skin was all pins and needles and her clothes seemed to determined to choke her.

It's difficult to stay still when you think you're burning to death inside your own skin, but she tried. Alex's hand gripped her hip hard and she went still. He was awake. Uh. Very awake. That was good, right? She fought the urge to run and hide in the bathroom.

"Sorry," she said. "This bed is uncomfortable."

He said nothing. His fingers dug in a bit harder, curving around the forward jut of her hip bone. It was now or never. Well, it was just now. Now was all there was. She couldn't think too hard about never or she'd run for the bathroom. She rolled over to face him, which meant she was partially off the mattress and partially on him. Cold air nipped the small of her back.

The fire was behind him and that made it hard to read his expression. He seemed tense and wary, like a cat primed to spring away at the smallest noise.

"I'm sorry I woke you. I can't sleep. It's..." She really couldn't think of a good way to say, "I'm sorry I've always treated you like the annoying brother I never wanted. I think I'm in love with you and if I don't kiss you this second I'm going to die." If he didn't think of her the same way? She'd lose him. She'd lose their partnership. She tried to say something, but only made a wheezing sound.

"Emma," he said in that lovely, calm voice. "Breathe. Take a breath. Let it out slowly You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

She did as he told her. In and out. He'd placed his hand on her stomach. She'd ended up on her back, nestled against his side. If she waited any longer he'd probably go back to sleep.

"I'm OK." She sat bolt upright. "No. I'm not OK." She grabbed the collar of his hideous sweater, because she needed something to hold onto. "I think I love you and I'm going to kiss you unless you say you don't want me to." Like a coward, she squeezed her eyes closed.

He said nothing. She cracked open one eye to see if he'd fallen asleep. He hadn't. He didn't move. Had she shocked him? Was this how everyone felt when they tried to declare their love and the other person didn't respond? Kind of like they wanted to throw up and hide in a closet? Why wouldn't he give her some sign?

"Alex, what are you doing?" she asked him.

"Waiting for you," he said. "I've been waiting for you all this time."

She tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly not sure where to put her hands or anything else. "I don't have a lot of experience with this so don't expect too much. I wish I could freshen up--"

Alex took her fluttering hand in one of his own. "Emma. It's OK. We don't have to... do anything. There's no rush." He kissed her hand, which was like being given a mouthful of water in the middle of the Sahara.

"Yes, there is." She dove into the kiss a little too forcefully, but Alex didn't seem to mind that their teeth knocked together a little. She'd kissed people before, but she'd always been aware that it was a weird thing to mash your mouth against someone else's while she was doing it. There was no thinking when she kissed Alex. It was like walking through a strange house in the dark, but somehow knowing where everything was.

It was wonderful, but it still wasn't enough. He'd hold back and try to be gentlemanly and sweet. Her insides had turned to magma. It was foreign and terrifying, but she couldn't stop her hands from ducking beneath his shirt. She raked her nails up his back and nipped his lower lip. That broke through some barrier of restraint. He began to kiss her back the way she was kissing him. It was too fast and too slow. It made her dizzy. It was nothing like being drunk, but that was the only thing it was even marginally like.

She sat up and pulled off her sweater and her shirt and reached for his. He stilled her hands. "Emma. I love you. You know I do, but I need to be sure that you really want this. We can't pretend it never happened. If you think we're dying and this is--"

She silenced him with her mouth and her tongue and her hands. "I feel like I might die if you don't touch me everywhere, but I won't want to ever take this back. Ever." 

"Give me a second." He got out of bed. She was going to die of mortification. Had she been too pushy? Should she apologize? No. She'd been honest and she would not be ashamed of that or what she felt. It was frigid, but she didn't pull the covers up to hide her bra. It was a very nice bra and it looked good on her. He wasn't looking though. She pulled the blanket up a little.

She could see him in profile. He was frowning, but she sensed that she shouldn't interrupt whatever he was thinking about. He stood and pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid moment. She clambered onto her knees and they fought to undo his pants. She was hindering him, more than helping. He fell into the bed laughing. He had to kick off his pants, which were hanging off his right leg. They tangled together under the quilt.

When he reached for the button on her jeans she went very still. He said, "If at any point you want me to stop or you change your mind that is OK."

She drew her index finger up her arm. "No. I got nervous for a second. I want this."

He kisser her neck and drew small loops on her bare stomach with his tongue, each one went lower, sending sparks rocketing through her.

"I haven't exactly..." she had no idea how to say it.

He'd unbuttoned her jeans, but stopped again. "You haven't? Like at all?"

"Well, not all the things." She closed her eyes and then forced herself to open them and look at him. "Not what I hope we're going to do."

"I had no idea..." he leaned back. He was thinking too much.

"It's not like you and I sit around talking about sex. Well, not until now." He was all mussed, but he looked too serious. She didn't have the slightest idea what to do. How did one make come hither eyes without the right makeup?

"Why are you squinting at me?" he asked.

She kicked at the bed with her heels. "I'm trying to seduce you."

He laughed and she realized she had a choice. She could choose to be offended and wrap herself up in it alone, or she could laugh with him. With him was better. She laughed and tugged him back down. It was strange to know him so well, but the weight and texture of his body was new to her. New and glorious.

She tossed her underpants on the floor and Alex fell back on the hard pillow and swore. Not quite the reaction she'd expected. Not even remotely. He covered his face with his hands.

"Did I so something?" she asked.

"What?" he scrubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw. "No. I got carried away. I don't have any kind of protection."

"But I've never--"

"I have."

"Recently?" She hoped the answer was no. She wasn't sure she'd have the courage to continue if he said that yesterday he'd met a nice woman.

"No," he admitted. "It's been a while and I've had all the requisite blood tests."

"So, you're mostly worried about pregnancy?"

He tilted his head from side to side. "Mostly."

"I've got that covered. Irregular cycles. Been on birth control since I was sixteen." She curled her fingers and toes up like nervous ferns.

"Thank God," he said and she relaxed.

He went slowly. Sometimes too slowly and she urged him to hurry up. He said he'd waited long enough and wouldn't be rushed. She taught him how to touch her. He learned quickly and improved upon her methods until he turned her inside out. He let her have her turn to explore him to her heart's content until she rolled onto her back and pulled him between her legs.

The divot between his brows returned.

"I'm not some Victorian maiden, you know." She rocked against him, slick and ready. "I want you." She rocked again because it felt wonderful and it made his jaw tense. "And I love you."

He kissed her and started to give her a long worried speech about things that might not feel right. She silenced him with a kiss. "Alex, are you nervous?"

"Of course I am."

"But you've done this before." 

"Not with you, Emma." His voice had a ragged edge. She'd been gently rubbing herself against the hard length of him and he nudged against her opening and paused.

He was going to treat her like glass. She wrapped her hands around the small of his back and drove herself up and him deep. She'd worried that it might feel peculiar, as peculiar as kissing once had, but it didn't. She rolled her hips again before he could ask her if it was all right or if it hurt. He leaned on his elbows and kissed her. It took a second or two for them to figure out who was setting the rhythm. Emma moaned. The sound just burst from her. Every time she did it Alex thrust harder. So she did it louder. The rickety bed sounded like it might collapse, but it didn't.

She was so intent on watching him, on feeling everything that she didn't quite see the edge rushing toward her until it was there and she tumbled over it. Every part of her locked up and then she melted, flooded with a bliss. Alex followed her, murmuring fragments of her name between groans. She fell asleep once the drumming of her pulse slowed.

They awoke when it was growing light. The fire was low, but not out. She knew she must look a mess, but he was looking at her like she'd never looked better. It was different to ache and want when you knew what you wanted. When you knew you could have it again. Which they did.

The sun was overhead when they managed to get out of bed and stay there. Alex left some cash and a note on the kitchen counter. They perforated the pristine snow with messy footprints, sometimes chasing each other and catching each other. It took easily as long to return to the car as it had the night before despite the lack of wind and snow. Because every ten feet one of them insisted the other looked cold and needed to be warmed up, when really neither of them felt the slightest chill.


End file.
